Booktok Motorcycle Novels & Stories

"It's preferable to go home." Afterwards, we put our shoes and immediately head to his bike. We came to the beach on his big sleek motorcycle. It's an amazing black Kawasaki Ninja with some prominent white outlines. I was afraid to have a ride on this beast at first, but I trusted Eren though he tried to scare the hell out of me by burning up the road like grease lightning.

It’s a corrugated tin shack, leaning precariously against a retaining wall. I rip the door open. Inside, sitting under a tarp, is a motorcycle. It’s not a chopper. It’s a sleek, matte-black sport bike. A Ducati. Fast. Agile. A Reaper's bike. I shove the documents inside my leather jacket—the one Drakon gave me back at the motel, which I miraculously still have—zipping it up to my chin. I jam the key into the ignition. It turns. The dashboard lights up. I hit the starter.

He already had a racing bike, but he wanted to get one that could go on road and off road for gravel roads and trails. "I found the perfect early birthday present for you," Emily announced. "The Ventana Nemesis." Byron was in the middle of working something out on his computer, so he didn't look up right away. When he did, the motorcycle of his dreams was staring him in the face from the glossy catalog. "It's 400 CC engine will take you anywhere across the most rugged terrain," Emily continued, "And maybe I'll get one for myself too... a smaller one, like this Ventana Minion."

I asked. “Yep. Just some club stuff,” he said. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about but I do have to go.” “I understand. Ride safely, okay?” His crisp blue eyes connected with mine, and I held my breath because he was studying me, something else that all his brothers shared. His eyes raked down my body, taking me in as he revved his motorcycle to life. My nipples were standing at attention behind my bra as he straddled his motorcycle. I thought about what it would be like to take him right there on his bike and to suck on his cock until he came down my throat as his legs hummed with the engine underneath his body.

"And if you try to run, I will find you. And I will break both your legs." I believed him. Jackson was waiting by his bike. He wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt under his leather cut, and sunglasses that hid those cold gray eyes. He looked me over slowly, his expression unreadable. "Get on." "I have never been on a motorcycle before." "Then today you learn." He handed me a helmet. "Put this on." My hands shook as I fastened the helmet. Jackson swung onto the bike and looked back at me expectantly. I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands.

I’m going to need every inchof the road. He didn't head for the main exit where the hit squadsexpected us. Instead, he led me toward a parkedHusqvarna 701 Supermoto—a bike he had "confiscated" and hidden earlier. It was lean, loud, and built for the kindof verticality Istanbul demanded.

His motorcycle didn’t announce itself. It roared. That deep, violent sound tore through the silence of the compound like a warning shot. Conversations died instantly. Heads turned. Even the guards shifted uneasily, hands moving instinctively toward their weapons before they realized who it was. Everyone knew that sound. Everyone knew him. Kade Roman. The biker Alpha they had once tried to erase from their territory. The man who refused to stay gone. The gates of the estate swung open with a heavy metallic groan, and there he was riding in like the world still bent to his rules. Black bike. Black jacket. Eyes colder than anything human should be allowed to carry.

she added. “Boys, can you show Xavier your motorcycle game on your tablets? I think he would love to see it. Especially since he drove me here on his motorcycle,” Rei grinned, clearly knowing that both of her boys’ faces would light up as they had. As they eagerly crowded around, they excitedly displayed their tablets and bombarded me with questions. The boys were curious about my motorcycle – they wanted to know its make and model, its top speed, how many years I had been riding, the design of my helmet, and whether their mother felt nervous riding on the back of it.

Big bully Ben was just catching up to him outside the bus, ready to grab him by his bag when the sound of a smooth running engine suddenly filled the vicinity. The whole of North Atlanta High, including Nat and Cassie, had to stop and marvel at the motor bike that rolled into the school before stopping in front of the bus. "Who is that?" gasped Cassie, mesmerized. They watched the rider slowly get up from the bike—a red Ducati Monster 795. He was clad in a classic red leather jacket and blue jeans then stepping on the ground with black boots. The rider went on to take off the black helmet, revealing a boy with thick black hair which thinned out from the sides of his square head down to the s